Page 2 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. Two (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #2)

Elliot

We did this to her.

I’ve been trying to keep that thought at bay. But seeing Wren in the kitchen like that? Fuck.

She was gripping the edge of the sink so hard her arms were shaking. She wasn’t breathing either, like she was so deep in a flashback she actually thought she was underwater.

This is exactly what I was afraid of.

It doesn’t matter, though. Wren is one of us now. And even if we could break things off, I wouldn’t want to. We belong together.

I just wish we’d been more careful.

Trust is such a hard thing to earn and such an easy thing to break. It’s even harder to build it back, I’d say. We didn’t intentionally betray Wren, but we promised we’d keep her safe, and then we failed.

And now? Now we have to prove to her that we’ll never let something like that happen again. I think the worst thing is that the only way to do that is with time.

As I watch her and Oliver head upstairs, I wonder if it would be a bad idea to suggest that Wren start going to therapy. I know a psychologist who could help her—he’s helped me, Rhett, and Oliver a lot over the years. The problem is how Wren will take it. Some people view needing therapy as a sign that they’re broken. Unfixable. That’s the last thing I want Wren to feel.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

Rhett perches on the arm of the love seat, towering over me. “Talk.”

“We need to help her.”

Rubbing my face, I work through the different ways we could bring it up to her. Or maybe she’s already thought of it? Or maybe I should mind my own business and let her handle it the way she wants to.

With a hum of agreement, Rhett slides onto the cushion. It’s a tight fit, so our bodies are pressed up against each other. Normally, it’s something Rhett would avoid, but it doesn’t seem to be bugging him.

“Relax,”

he murmurs, tilting my chin up with two fingers so I have to look into his eyes. The smell of cedar and sage acts as a soothing balm to my stress.

“You’ve been tense all week.”

“I’m worried. About Wren. And Ol. Fuck, I’m worried about all three of you.”

He sighs, a knowing smile flitting across his features.

“Get on the floor. Face away from me and sit in between my legs.”

I don’t question him. At this point, I’m too tired to think an independent thought. As I move to the floor, he adjusts himself so his legs are spread.

“Deep breaths,”

he says. As I lean against the love seat, his hands find my shoulders, massaging lightly.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll do it every night if I have to. Now relax.”

I try. After a couple deep breaths, some of the tension leaves my body, and Rhett starts massaging deeper into my muscles. I groan, and my eyes slide shut.

“I’d fuck the stress out of you if we had time,”

he mutters.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“We’re gonna be on a plane tomorrow.”

“Only for a few hours. Not that that’s ever stopped us.”

As a smile spreads across my face, I say, “True.”

There’s silence for a few minutes. Then Rhett says, “Tell me what you’re planning.”

“For Florida?”

“No. I don’t want to think about that tonight. What are you planning to do to help Wren?”

“I don’t know,”

I say defeatedly.

“And I don’t want to tell her what to do, either.”

“Sometimes just being there is enough,”

Rhett says quietly.

“Especially when it comes to healing. You can’t make someone do that.”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“She needs to take things at her own pace.”

“And what if she tries to push herself too much?”

“Then we’ll step in.”

He kisses the top of my head.

“We aren’t going to stand by and let her hurt herself, I can tell you that much.”

For the next couple minutes, Rhett continues working through the knots in my shoulders. Then he tugs my head back so I’m looking up at the ceiling. He leans over me, gripping my chin to hold my head in place, and kisses me.

“We’ll be okay,”

he says.

“Just six more months.”

And then we’re free.

Guilt pangs in my chest for thinking of it that way. Sammy deserves justice, and we decided she’ll get it within the next six months. It means we have to change our current plans for Ludo, which is a pain in the ass, but it also means we can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We’ve been working toward revenge for so long that I’ve forgotten how to exist outside of it. I’m tired—we all are. And while I can’t wait to take Ludo down, I also can’t wait for all of this to be behind us.

“I should get changed,”

Rhett says, releasing my chin.

“Pretty sure whatever Wren and O end up wearing will be nothing like this.”

He gestures to his current outfit—sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

“Since when do you care about what you wear?”

“I don’t. But Oliver does. And I’ll always care about him.”

Well, can’t argue with him there.

“Wait, you already know what he’s planning on wearing?”

“Maybe.”

With another kiss to the side of my head, Rhett carefully disentangles himself from me and stands.

“You’ll see.”

I’d try to convince him to tell me, but I know better than that. When Rhett doesn’t want to admit something, there’s almost nothing that’ll get him to open up. So I watch him go, because how could I not? It doesn’t matter what Rhett is wearing—his ass always looks good.

With a sigh, I get up from the floor and head to the kitchen. I definitely haven’t had enough water today, so I pour myself a glass. Not the smartest thing to do before a long drive into the city, but I’ll survive.

It was Rhett’s idea to do something nice for Wren. She’s been through hell the past week or so, and I think we all want to give her the best distraction we can. She deserves more than the absolute terror that was in her eyes earlier.

So we planned a small date. Nothing too extravagant, especially since we leave for Florida tomorrow. But hopefully it’ll help all of us to destress.

“Ell?”

Oliver calls after a couple minutes.

“Where are you?”

“Kitchen,”

I yell back, taking a swig of water.

Just then, Wren steps into my view with Oliver behind her. I freeze. Apparently, I also forget how to function as a human being, because I swallow my water wrong and drive myself into a coughing fit.

“You,”

I wheeze in between gasping breaths, “little shit.”

Wren pauses, doubt flickering over her features. But then Oliver throws an arm around her shoulders and chuckles.

“No worries, princess. He’s not talking to you.”

That fucking color.

Once I stop coughing, I say, “Wren. Come here. Now.”

Her eyes widen in surprise at my demanding tone, but she doesn’t hesitate. The second she’s within my grasp, I pull her into me and waste no time fusing her mouth to mine.

He even did her eyeshadow with it.

Grabbing onto my sides, Wren rises onto her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. My thumb brushes over her cheek as I groan into her mouth.

“You look perfect,”

I say against her lips.

“So fucking beautiful. I’m never letting you out of this sweater.”

“What—”

Wren pulls away slightly, looking between me and the sweater, and then she laughs.

“O! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Oliver grins.

“Because this was funnier.”

“Fuck,”

I hear Rhett say behind me.

“Did I miss his reaction?”

“Yeah, sorry,”

Oliver replies.

“I didn’t realize you were gonna go get changed.”

His gaze travels up and down Rhett’s body before he slowly licks his lips.

“You look nice.”

I can’t stop ogling all three of them. But Rhett is frowning at Oliver, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well,”

Oliver says, seemingly oblivious to the way Rhett is looking at him, “are we ready to go?”

“I don’t think so.”

The words don’t come out harshly or angrily. On the contrary, Rhett’s tone is firm but not intimidating. I doubt his calm demeanor will last long, though.

“What?”

Oliver asks.

“Go finish getting ready.”

With a nervous glance at Wren, Oliver says, “I am ready.”

“We talked about this,”

Rhett replies darkly.

“Look, it’s fine—”

“Go. get. ready.”

“I am. Let’s—”

“No.”

Marching up to Oliver, Rhett grabs him and throws him over his shoulder.

“Hey! You can’t just—”

“We’ll be back,”

Rhett says roughly, keeping a firm grip on Oliver as he stalks out of the kitchen.

Wren watches the encounter with wide eyes before turning to me.

“What was that about?”

“You’ll see.”

Oliver has worked a lot on his insecurities over the years. I suppose it makes sense that adding Wren to our group is unearthing some of them. We did talk about this, but one conversation is rarely enough to solve a problem.

When Rhett and Oliver come back, Oliver is wearing some of his favorite pieces of jewelry. A couple rings, a bracelet, and then two necklaces. One is a silver chain and the other is a necklace that has a coin hanging from it. It’s from the first international trip the three of us ever took together.

“Now we’re ready,”

Rhett says, giving Oliver a pointed look. Then he moves his gaze to Wren, like he’s waiting for her to say something, but she’s so fixated on Oliver that she doesn’t notice.

For a second, it looks like she wants to talk, but she doesn’t.

“Let’s go.”

I reach for my keys, but Rhett grabs my arm.

“I’ll drive. You need to relax.”

In Rhett’s truck, I take the passenger seat, and Wren and Oliver get in the back. Once we’re on the road, I settle against the seat and close my eyes. Damn. Rhett is right—I didn’t realize how tired I was until he pointed it out.

“I love you for who you are,”

Wren says quietly enough that she probably thinks Rhett and I don’t hear.

Oliver stays silent for a minute. Then, “I’m just…”

“You. You’re you, Oliver. You’re not Elliot. You’re not Rhett. And I don’t expect you to be, just like I don’t expect them to be you. You’re charming and funny and cool and sweet and caring and you. And every time I discover a new part of you, I fall more in love with you.”

Oliver sighs.

“I guess I just figured that since you were attracted to Ell first, he was more your type.”

“Kindness is my type, and you fit that perfectly,”

she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“And I was actually attracted to all three of you the first time I saw you. Ell didn’t come first.”

“Oh,”

Oliver mumbles.

“Come here,”

she says, taking his face in her hands and kissing him lightly.

“Don’t ever feel like you have to hide yourself from me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Hearing Wren’s reassurances takes a huge weight off my chest. And when Rhett’s large, warm hand rests on my thigh, I’m lulled even deeper into a state of peacefulness.

The last thought I remember before nodding off is that Rhett has been touching me more lately, and that I hope it’s because he’s doing better.

***

Walking into an art museum’s brightly-lit lobby isn’t the most appealing thing to do after waking up from a nap. My head feels foggy, and my eyelids are still too heavy. But Rhett heads to the museum’s cafe as soon as we arrive and grabs me a coffee.

As we wander through the museum, I sip it, welcoming the energy the caffeine gives me. The four of us have a lot of fun, going from exhibit to exhibit and exploring together. By the time I’ve finished my coffee, I’m fully awake and happier than ever.

Rhett was right to suggest this. We all need space to reconnect. Getting out and doing something with them instead of holing up at home and prepping for Florida is a nice change of pace.

“I like this one,”

Wren says, gazing at a large European painting high up on the wall.

With a snort, Oliver points to one of the people in the background of the painting.

“He looks like he’s taking a really bad shit.”

“OLIVER!”

“What? Tell me I’m wrong, princess.”

I hide my smile by pretending to take a sip out of my empty coffee cup. That’s exactly what the guy in the painting looks like.

Grumbling out an admission that Oliver is right, Wren grabs his hand and pulls him to the next painting. Even with a grudging frown on her face, I can’t peel my eyes off of her.

Of course, Rhett notices. What doesn’t he notice? He chuckles as I follow after Wren.

“What?”

I say.

“It’s not my fault she looks like a goddamned dream in forest green.”

“As I’ve said before, you think she looks like a goddamned dream in anything,”

Oliver calls over his shoulder. Then he winks at Wren.

“Or nothing.”

I can’t even pretend he’s wrong. Wren shoots me an amused smile, swaying her hips slightly as she walks.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

The next room is a series of painted American landscapes. Some are more muted while others are more colorful, but you can tell with all of them that the artist has taken a lot of time to hone their skills.

“These are all so pretty,”

Wren says, turning to get a three-sixty of the whole room. When she sees that my eyes have already made their way back to her, she hides a giggle behind her hand.

“It’s rude to stare, Ell,”

Oliver says playfully.

“Shut up. This is your fault anyway.”

With a snicker, Oliver comes up beside me and whispers in my ear, “Maybe next time, we’ll both wear forest green.”

I groan.

“Oliver!”

Wren exclaims.

“Stop teasing him.”

“Not a chance.”

Oliver kisses me, not bothering to keep it sweet and chaste even though we’re in a public place. He grabs my head and kisses me so hard I almost forget that I’m about two seconds away from dragging him into a closet and spanking some sense into him.

Almost.

When Oliver finally lets me go, he’s grinning.

“I love when I make you forget how to think.”

Tilting her head, Wren watches me with an amused expression. She’s quickly distracted by something behind me, though.

“Oh, that one’s extra pretty.”

I turn to check out the painting she’s talking about, almost missing the way Rhett ducks down and whispers in Oliver’s ear. They both look at me mischievously before Rhett walks over and plucks my cup from my hand.

“We’re gonna run to the bathroom. Have… fun.”

“Rhett,”

I hiss.

“We’re in public.”

“What?”

He shrugs innocently.

“I just said to have fun.”

I roll my eyes.

“Don’t pretend—”

“No, you don’t pretend.”

The smirk growing on Rhett’s face makes me wish we had the luxury of privacy that home provides.

“You’re not going to pass up this opportunity, pretty boy. Drop the propriety act.”

I bite my tongue. Why is he always right, dammit?

“That’s better.”

He drops a kiss to my cheek before grabbing Oliver’s hand. They saunter out of view until I’m left with Wren.

Holding my arm out to her, I say, “C’mere, love.”

I love the way she doesn’t hesitate. She enters my reach, and I sweep her up into my arms, twirling her around. With a gasp, she grabs onto my shoulders, still holding on as I set her down gently.

“You really think I look that pretty in green?”

she asks, brows furrowed.

I laugh.

“Pretty? You’re a piece of art all on your own, love. But seeing you in my favorite color? It does something to me I can’t even describe. All I can think about is fucking devouring you. Touching you.”

My head dips down, and I kiss her neck before saying lowly in her ear, “Making you scream for the whole museum to hear.”

She whimpers, squeezing her thighs together.

“Am I turning you on?”

She slides her hands down my body.

“You know you are.”

Running my thumb over my lip, I say, “You want me to do something about it?”

She groans, nodding.

I trace a finger across her jawbone, down her neck and chest, and in between her breasts.

“Use your words, Wren.”

“Please,”

she whispers.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

That’s all it takes. Grabbing her, I spin her around and press her back to my front. We’re standing so we’re right in front of the painting she pointed out earlier, which is exactly how I want her.

“Oh god, oh god, right here?”

she squeaks out.

“But the security cam—cameras—oh, oohhhh never mind.”

Wren’s head falls back onto my shoulder as I brush my fingertips over her nipples.

“Look at the painting, love. Tell me what you see.”

As I say it, I undo her jeans. The texture of her panties isn’t the soft cotton I was expecting. She’s wearing something lacy, and the thought makes me groan.

“It’s… beautiful,”

she gasps as I run a finger over the fabric.

“Go on.”

I dip my fingers into her panties.

Her body melts from the lightest stroke against her clit.

“Ell, god.”

“What do you see, Wren?”

“The sky is so colorful,”

she manages.

“Pinks and purples and blues.”

“A little orange, too,” I add.

“Y-yeah.”

As I circle her clit, I nip at her neck.

“What else do you see?”

“There’s—fuck. What if someone comes in?”

“I’m watching.”

I pause my finger.

“Unless you want me to stop?”

She lets out a tortured whine and shakes her head.

“Please keep going.”

“Then keep describing the painting to me.”

I can see it for myself—of course I can. But exploring the minds of Oliver and Rhett has always been one of my favorite pastimes. The same is true for Wren. There’s so much to learn about her—about all three of them—and it’s my lifelong goal to never stop diving deeper into who they are.

“You can do it, love.”

I want to see the painting through her eyes. I want to know what parts stand out to her, what she appreciates the most.

Inhaling deeply, she continues.

“The artist added in some purples and pinks to the snow on the mountaintop. Like it’s—”

Her breath hitches as I start moving my finger again, “—like it’s reflecting the sky. It makes the whole thing so much fuller.”

Gazing at the painting, I realize she’s right.

“I hadn’t noticed that.”

“They did the same thing with the water. Just in parts of it.”

The last sentence comes out as a whisper. Her breaths are heavier than they were a minute ago, and it makes me smile.

Trailing kisses down her neck, I ask, “What’s your favorite part?”

She whimpers.

“The… the angle, I think.”

“Oh?”

I circle my finger faster, making her jerk against me.

“Most paintings of lakes and mountains are from below, at eye level,”

she explains.

“But this one is from above, like we’re looking at it from another mountain. I like the different perspective.”

“Interesting.”

She tenses.

“Is that not what you were expecting me to say?”

“I was expecting you to say whatever you thought, love. Is that what you did?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,”

I say lowly in her ear.

She whimpers again, arching into me. Fuck, I love the sounds she makes.

“Give me your hands.”

“What?”

“Put them behind your back.”

It’s not like I can tie her up in the middle of the museum, but that doesn’t mean I can’t restrain her. I love seeing her squirm and wiggle helplessly as she comes.

After she obeys, I grab her wrists, holding them in place. Her fingers brush against my dick, and I groan. If I knew we could get away with it, I’d bend her over and fuck her right here. But I know I won’t be able to keep an eye out for anyone else wandering through.

“Ell,”

she moans. Her body is so riddled with tension that she’s beginning to tremble.

“Are you close, love?”

“So close.”

She tries to turn her head to look at me.

“Uh uh. You know what you should be focusing on.”

My finger slows.

“Ell, please. I want to kiss you.”

“And I want you to be a good girl and do as I say so I can let you come.”

The helpless sound she makes has me hiding a smirk in her hair. She tries to free her arms, but I keep my grip on her wrists firm.

“Look at the painting, love.”

She acquiesces, staring at it.

“That’s it,”

I murmur, picking up the pace of my finger again. When she shudders against me, I pepper her neck with kisses. And then she comes apart silently in my arms, throwing her head back until it hits my shoulder.

“Look. at. the. painting.”

With a quiet sob, she does. I’m still stroking her clit with a feather-light touch, not letting her come down all the way.

“Tell me what else you see.”

“Ell, I can’t—ahhh—”

Her knees go weak momentarily, but she’s able to catch herself.

“Lean against me and do as I say, Wren.”

“Shit. The—the brushstrokes. They added a lot of details to the pine trees, with all those tiny lines. The artist didn’t have to, but they did anyway.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

I pull my hand out of her pants and lick my fingers clean.

“Delectable.”

She whimpers, squirming, but I still have her wrists pinned behind her. Gently, I let go and spin her around. Her eyes instantly flit to my mouth, and they flare slightly when I lick my lips, savoring the taste of her.

“Ell, please.”

She rises onto her tiptoes, clutching my sweater.

With my clean hand, I cup her chin and kiss her softly. I eat up her moans, moving my lips more hungrily when she wraps her arms around my neck.

She sighs against my mouth.

“I love tasting myself on you.”

Pulling away, I gaze into her eyes. The forest green eyeshadow is almost exactly the same shade as the sweater, and it does wonders for her. Maybe I’m biased, but I don’t care.

“If I could, I’d never let any of you wear another color.”

She laughs.

“No wonder Oliver kept this.”

I kiss her again—can’t fucking help it. And then my hand is sliding into her panties like it has no other purpose but to please her.

“Come for me again,”

I whisper.

She moans, her nails digging into my shoulders through my clothes. As I swipe a finger over her clit, she bites her lip to keep herself quiet. Normally I’d tell her to be loud, but this isn’t the place for that, no matter what I said earlier.

I hear footsteps to my right. When I turn to look, it’s just Ol and Rhett. Oliver’s eyes are lit up with amusement.

“Told you,”

I hear Rhett mutter to him.

Oliver snickers, shoving his hands into the pockets of those black skinny jeans that make him look sexy as hell. At the sound, Wren turns her head to look at him.

“Eyes on me, love,”

I say, gripping her chin with my free hand and forcing her to meet my gaze.

“And don’t look away.”

She’s still so wound up, I’m sure it won’t take her long to come again. Especially since Oliver and Rhett are watching. Our girl has some exhibitionist tendencies, and I’m happy to fulfill them. We all are.

“Do you like that they’re watching you?”

I ask quietly enough that only she can hear.

“That they want to touch you, too?”

She nods. Her eyes are wide and full of desperation.

Just the way I like her.

I slip a finger inside of her, playing with her clit with my thumb. Wren tries to hold in her squeak of surprise, but she does a poor job of it.

I click my tongue.

“Someone’s going to hear you.”

“I can’t—I can’t help it.”

Rhett ducks closer to Oliver, watching us intently.

“Ten bucks says she’ll scream loud enough that we get kicked out.”

“Nah,”

Oliver says.

“Ell is too practical for that. He’ll keep her quiet.”

“Oh god,”

Wren gasps, and Oliver is right. I clap a hand over her mouth as she cries out and comes all over my fingers.

I move my thumb from her clit, focusing on curling my fingers deeper into her. It does the trick, because her eyes roll into the back of her head. She groans, the sound muffled by my hand.

“Fuck,”

I say lowly, watching her. All I want is to pull her somewhere with a little more privacy, strip her down, and wrench that reaction from her as many times as I can.

As I ease my hand out of her panties, Wren practically withers. I lick my fingers clean and wrap my other arm around her while she catches her breath. Her eyes are half-closed, and a sated smile graces her features.

Rhett hands Oliver ten dollars, grumbling something about how Wren would’ve screamed loudly enough if I hadn’t silenced her. Just then, we hear a couple voices. Wren’s eyes blow wide as she quickly zips and buttons her pants. I help adjust her sweater, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Too close?”

I ask when she still looks nervous.

She bites her lip before grabbing my hand and grinning.

“Maybe just close enough.”